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Saffren and me two very suspected individuals who hide here like two bad criminals!" "No, no," I protested hastily. "The name of Professor Keredec " "The name of NO man," he thundered, interrupting, "can protect his reputation when he is caught peeping from a curtain! Ha, my dear sir! I know what you think.
"If it will convince you that I mean it, I'll give up my hopes of seeing that SUMPTUOUS Mr. Saffren and go back to Quesnay now, before he comes home. He's been out for a walk a long one, since it's lasted ever since early this morning, so the waiter told me. May I go with you? You CAN'T know how enervating it is up there at the chateau all except Mrs. Harman, and even she " "What about Mrs.
His name is Oliver Saffren, and he's in the charge of a VERY large doctor and quite, QUITE mad!" "Jean Ferret, the gardener." I said deliberately, and with venom, "is fast acquiring notoriety in these parts as an idiot of purest ray, and he had his information from another whose continuance unhanged is every hour more miraculous."
Saffren turned toward him wonderingly, his unconscious, eager look remarkably emphasised and brightened. "All such things are most strange great mysteries," continued the professor. "For when a man has made the selection, THAT being DOES become all the universe, and for him there is nothing else at all nothing else anywhere!"
"Madame d'Armand," Saffren repeated the name slowly. "Her name is Madame d'Armand." "Yes, monsieur," said Amedee complacently; "it is an American lady who has married a French nobleman." Like most painters, I have supposed the tools of my craft harder to manipulate than those of others. The use of words, particularly, seemed readier, handier for the contrivance of effects than pigments.
"I'll do anything in the world you'll let me and oh, I hope they can't do anything to poor, poor Mr. Saffren!" "Our sporting friend had evidently seen him with Mrs. Harman to-day," I said. "Do you know if they went to the beach again?" "I only know she meant to meet him but she told me she'd be back at the chateau by four. If I start now " "Wasn't the phaeton to be sent to the inn for you?"
"Quesnay will be gay," I said, coming out to the table. Oliver Saffren was helping the professor down the steps, and Keredec, bent with suffering, but indomitable, gave me a hearty greeting, and began a ruthless dissection of Plato with the soup. Oliver, usually, very quiet, as I have said, seemed a little restless under the discourse to-night.
From above me leaned the stricken face of Keredec; he caught Saffren under the arm and half lifted him to the gallery, while she strove to hold him by the knees. "O Christ!" gasped Saffren. "Is THIS the woman?" The giant swung him across the gallery and into the open door with one great sweep of the arm, strode in after him, and closed and bolted the door.
There was a final call, clear and loud as a bugle, and she turned to the direction whence it came, so that her back was toward me. Then Oliver Saffren came running lightly round the turn of the path, near her and facing her. He stopped as short as she had. Her hand dropped from the slender branch, and pressed against her side.
I would show you, if I could, our pleasant evenings of lingering, after coffee, behind the tremulous screen of honeysuckle, with the night very dark and quiet beyond the warm nimbus of our candle-light, the faces of my two companions clear-obscure in a mellow shadow like the middle tones of a Rembrandt, and the professor, good man, talking wonderfully of everything under the stars and over them, while Oliver Saffren and I sat under the spell of the big, kind voice, the young man listening with the same eagerness which marked him when he spoke.